


pulses can drive from here (and i like you)

by lizzysbennett



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (oh my god), Background GingerRose, F/M, Face Sitting, Grief, Mutual Pining, Roadtrip, Woman on Top, and they were ROOMMATES, background stormpilot, ben solo has a dirty mouth and rey is into it, but for now? semi-slow burn, he dies offscreen before the story begins, medium burn?, mentions of drug use/alcoholism, rey's parents are not great, the major death tag is for han, there will be a lot of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23807029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzysbennett/pseuds/lizzysbennett
Summary: After the death of his father, Ben has to take his old car back to New York, for reasons vaguely associated with the will his father never bothered to write and the author didn't bother to research. Faced with the prospect of returning to New York, he asks his roommate, Rey, to accompany him on his cross-country roadtrip.Rey, the roommate he's been in love with probably since before she moved in.There's no way this could end poorly. Right?
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 29
Kudos: 174
Collections: Anniversary Fic Exchange 2020





	1. i. nevada

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpaceWaffleHouseTM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceWaffleHouseTM/gifts).



> hi waffles! i hope you like what i did w/ your prompt!! there will be lots of tropey goodness.

It isn't until they cross the border that it occurs to Ben that this whole thing may have been a colossal mistake.

He has carefully planned every detail of this trip. Sure, their time is admittedly limited, but he’s going to make sure Rey sees as many states as he can possibly manage. Yet somehow (although it really shouldn't be that surprising, given that it was his primary motivation in planning this trip), he forgot to factor in one little detail: he is totally and completely head-over-heels for one Rey Sanders.

In his defense, he didn't really think it would be a problem. After all, they live together, and their apartment isn't exactly a penthouse or anything. Ben has to spend hours and hours every day managing his feelings for Rey while in close proximity to her. But as it turns out, his car is even smaller than their apartment, and spending large portions of the day with Rey is not quite the same thing as spending literally all day with her.

And night.

Oh God, what has he done?

He’s going to be surrounded by Rey constantly for the next two weeks. There won't be any break from her scent, her voice, her smile. Every one of his senses is going to be permanently attuned to Rey Sanders—assuming they aren't already.

This trip might just kill him.

He got the notice in the mail three weeks ago. The estate needed him to return his father’s car to New York, for some reason he doesn't understand and doesn't fucking care to because there is a goddamn reason he didn't go into estate law. All he knows is that he doesn't have a dad anymore, and now that he doesn't have a dad, the government has decided he doesn't need a car, either. Okay, that’s not exactly it. His mom told him that it was because they needed to see how much the car was worth because his dad didn't have a will, so taking care of everything was messier than usual.

“That man,” she’d said, equal parts exasperation and fondness. “I think he just thought he’d never die.”

She was probably right. Ben felt very sure that Han Solo never thought about death.

Either way, he’s really not looking forward to a return trip to New York. He hasn't been there since...

Well, it’s been a long time, anyway.

He didn't want to go back. He really, really fucking didn't. Then he mentioned it to Rey, and her face lit up. 

“That’s so cool!” She winced. “I mean, the reason you have to go back isn't great, but I’ve always thought it would be fun to do a cross-country roadtrip. You know, I think I’ve been to three states? And Nevada only barely counts...”

“Do you want to come with me?” he blurted, without really even taking time to think about it. It was really pretty simple: Rey wanted something, he gave it to her. Nothing else mattered.

“Are you sure?” she said, a little hesitantly. “I don't want to intrude on your... time, or anything you need to do.” _Time to grieve_ , she meant. _Anything you need to do because your dad died_ , she meant.

“Rey, I promise you,” he’d said, “the only thing that could possibly make this trip bearable is if you come with me.”

She had beamed at him then, and it was the best he’d felt in the three weeks and two days since his mom had called with the news about his dad.

So Rey had taken a couple weeks off work—which was pretty easy for her to do, since she was a TA and it was the break between summer and fall classes anyway—and she’d drawn them up a map, thoroughly researched for “maximum roadtrip potential,” Rey informed him. She had done all the scheduling and all the packing and planned snacks and made a playlist. It left Ben feeling a little useless, if he was being honest, but Rey informed him he’d be doing the majority of the driving, and the majority of the paying, so it was only fair she contributed in other ways, and that was that. Rey can be a little touchy about money, so he’d let it go.

That was one of the first things he’d learned about her, actually: that she could be touchy about money.

They first moved in together less by choice and more because they’d been rooming with the most annoying fucks on the planet, in Ben’s case, and their best friends, in Rey’s. Poe (his roommate) and Finn (hers) had started dating, and they’d decided they were going to move in together once their leases were up. And that was bad enough, but then Rose (her roommate) and Hux (his) had started dating, too, and they also wanted to live together.

Which kind of left Rey up shit’s creek without a paddle.

Ben would have been fine. He’s a semi-retired asshole, full-time lawyer, and he makes plenty of money, plus, he inherited a not insignificant amount from grandparents who all died long before he was born. He didn't really need a roommate, but, as much as he hates to admit it, he did need another person around. It wasn't really good for him, when he lived alone.

So all their friends had orchestrated what seemed like a fairly simple solution: Rey could just move in with Ben when her, Finn, and Rose’s leases all ended. Ben thought it was a great idea. He hadn't spent a lot of time with Rey, but she’d seemed very nice when he’d met her, and he knew she was still doing her master’s at UCLA, so she really couldn't afford to be without housing. And she hadn't been living in a great neighborhood, and his apartment was much closer to campus, and Ben was not an asshole. So he was completely ready for Rey to move in.

He was not, however, ready for her reaction when she saw the apartment.

He wasn't sure how he’d expected her to react, actually. Approval, maybe? Excitement? Awe, even? He knows he’s got a nice place, especially given how fucking ridiculous California housing is. But whatever he expected, anger wasn't it.

She’d walked in through the door and her jaw had dropped. She’d whirled on him and demanded, “Why the fuck do you have a place like this with the rent you’re charging me?”

Ben had thrown up his hands placatingly. “Rey, hey, it’s alright—”

“I don't know what Finn and Rose have said, but I can take care of myself. You don't have to undercharge me out of _pity_ —”

“Pity? No, Rey, that’s not what’s happening here—”

“Then what is it? Because I’m willing to do a lot of things to survive, but sleeping with you to save on my rent isn't one of them!”

“Rey!” He was afraid he’d yelled it a little too loudly, from the way she froze in place, but he really needed her to stop talking. “That is not what’s happening, either. I would never ask you to do something like that.”

“I know,” she cut in, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, it was... cruel of me to make that suggestion.”

Ben is a lawyer. He can read people well enough to tell he had somehow hit a sensitive spot for Rey, and he wasn't going to press it any more. “That’s how much Poe and Hux paid. Actually, Hux paid a little more, because he’s an asshole. More of an asshole than Poe, anyway. But I don't need the money, and California rent is the fucking worst, so I guess it’s just my way of trying to help. I promise, I wasn't taking pity on Poe and Hux, either. And I definitely wasn't sleeping with either one of them.”

Rey hummed. She still didn't like it, but the offer was very tempting, he could tell.

“I’m not a good cook,” she said finally. “I’ll burn water if you let me—and I have. And I like to sing, all the time, and sometimes I don't even know I’m doing it. Plus I take really long showers, and I’m awake at weird hours and constantly doing stuff for school. Are you sure you want me to move in?”

“Well,” Ben replied, “I love cooking, and I don't like it when other people mess up my kitchen, so I think that’ll work. The singing can't be any worse than Hux’s habit of leaving passive-aggressive sticky notes.” It actually sounded pretty cute, but he wasn't about to tell her that. “And there’s no way you could spend more time in the bathroom than Poe. So yeah, I think this will work perfectly.”

Rey tilted her chin up, eyes steely and spine straight. She held out her hand. “I guess we have a deal.”

Las Vegas really isn't very far from Los Angeles. Ben knew that, intellectually, but usually, whenever he has to come to Vegas, he just flies. It’s a fucking miserable city, first of all, and he’d rather spend as little time there as possible. Besides, he only ever comes to Vegas on business, so he can pretty easily afford to fly, and he usually needs to be as time-efficient as possible anyway.

He hates Las Vegas. But Rey has never been to Las Vegas, and Rey wanted to make a stop, at least for the first night, so... here he is. In Las Vegas. In _August_. Jesus Christ, the things he does for—

Well, that’s not really worth thinking about right now.

The hotel Rey’s booked for them is actually really nice. He’s not really surprised by that; she’s incredibly smart, and she knows him well enough to be well-versed in his travel-snob tendencies. But in Vegas, especially, it’s really easy to get caught up in flashy decorations and grand declarations, and it makes him a little bit _proud_ , almost, to see how neatly Rey has avoided all of that.

They’re staying in the same room. Which is fine. It’s fine. Thankfully, there are two beds, or else it might really be a problem.

It already might be a problem, Ben thinks as he watches Rey emerge from the bathroom, makeup done and hair atop her head, wearing a silky black dress that emphasizes the curves of her frame exceptionally well.

“Does this look okay?” she asks, turning slightly to her left side, then her right, presumably so that Ben can get a better look at her outfit. Which is really not necessary; he’s pretty sure the image of her like this is permanently emblazoned on his mind. “I’m quite determined to do this correctly,” she laughs.

“You look perfect,” Ben blurts.

She looks at the ground, then up at him, shyer than he’s ever seen her look. “Thank you.”

He clears his throat and offers her his arm, feeling more than a little bit... strange. She takes it, laughing and rolling her eyes, but grinning all the same. “My lord,” she says, her accent extra affected.

“My lady,” he replies with the same mock-solemnity. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” she says decisively, and they set off into the summer night.

Ben will never understand how, even though Las Vegas and Los Angeles are both deserts, Vegas manages to feel like hell all the damn time. Though he’d speculate it has less to do with the weather, and more to do with the plethora of idiots that like to fill its clubs and casinos. But Rey wanted to walk the strip, so here they are.

She laughs at a couple ahead of them, clearly inebriated and stumbling into the ever-infamous Little White Wedding Chapel. “They might regret more than the hangover tomorrow morning,” she tells him.

He hums in agreement and does his best to erase the image of Rey in a white dress from his mind.

“How far is Bellagio? I want to see the fountains. And then get our picture taken in front of that little Eiffel Tower across the street.”

“You weren't kidding when you said you’d planned ‘disgustingly tourist-y’ things to do.”

“Hey—oh!”

She stumbles over an uneven edge of the sidewalk. Ben catches her waist and pulls her against him. To steady her. Of course.

No ulterior motives here.

He can feel her lithe little body against his. She’s breathing so hard, her gorgeous hazel eyes locked onto his. She’s just so small—well, she isn't small, not compared to most people. Slender, sure, but not short. But next to him, she feels tiny. Like his hands could span her waist. Like he could rest his chin on top of her head while he held her. If Ben could bottle the feeling of Rey, pressed against him, he’d drink it every day, and he thinks he’d never feel bad again.

It doesn't last for long, because nothing does (although it might have lasted an eternity). Rey laughs, says “thank you,” her voice all shaky, and pulls away. The air between them is weighted.

Ben gestures to her shoes. “I knew those things were dangerous,” he says gruffly.

“Not that dangerous,” Rey sniffs. “You were here to catch, me, weren't you?”

His mouth softens into what might almost be called a smile. “Always.”

The rest of the night is a blur of lights and people, made still blurrier by the amount of alcohol he and Rey both consume. He stays by her side the whole time—though, a small voice in the back of his head notes, she doesn't seem to want to leave him, either. By the time they’re stumbling back to the hotel, he knows he won't remember most of this, but little details seem to soak more deeply into his alcohol-saturated mind.

Like the way she’d smiled up at him as another girl took their picture in front of that stupid tower, and laughed about it being the closest she’d ever get to the real thing, and, tongue loosened, he said if she really wanted, he’d take her there someday.

Or the way she’d taken her shoes off, too tipsy to walk in them, and even though Ben had been none too steady himself, he’d managed to sweep her into his arms and carry her the last few blocks.

Or how, when they finally reached their room, she was insistent she wouldn't sleep in her own bed, but had climbed into his, eyeliner smudged around her eyes and hair tangled, and curled around him, and promptly fallen asleep.

The feeling of falling asleep with Rey in his arms, even if it’s only the once—Ben decides, rather groggily, that nothing on earth could make him forget that.


	2. ii. tennessee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for discussion about rey's mom, an addict, who rey found unconscious at one point. the discussion is brief, but if that is triggering, skim the discussion about rey's parents. all you really need to know is the information already shared, and that rey's mom (as in canon (tros doesn't exist lmao)) abandoned her.

It’s incredible how flat the middle of the country is. Rey’s lived in America for as long as she can remember, but she had no idea anything could be like this. Her life has been lived entirely in the southwest, in landscapes full of gullies and cliffs and ravines and mountains. She grew up in Arizona before she moved to California for school, so she really is a child of the desert. But here...

“There’s so much _green_ ,” she’d whispered sometime around the Colorado-Kansas border. “I didn't know there was this much green in the whole world.”

Ben had looked at her then, in that way that he sometimes looks at her, that way that makes Rey feel flushed, like she’d had maybe a glass of wine too many. “Yeah,” he’d said softly.

So she’d smacked his shoulder and told him to keep his eyes on the road, and he’d laughed.

It really is amazing, how green, how flat everything is, how far you can see. Just so unlike everything Rey’s ever known.

When they crossed the Mississippi, she’d leaned out of the window and just yelled. She wasn't even sure what she’d said, too high on her own euphoria.

She still can't believe Ben let her come with him. She hadn't been sure he liked her, when she first moved in. He’d been so quiet all the time, almost grouchy. And with the way Rey had insulted him when she’d first been thinking about moving in, outright calling him a creep when he’d just been trying to do something nice—she really wouldn't have blamed him if he’d hated her. But he hadn't; he’d been so nice about what she’d said, and then he’d really just left her alone most of the time. Although he did usually offer her some of whatever when he was cooking.

The night where she finally knew Ben Solo didn't hate her at all will always be imprinted on her being, like a brand.

Rey had had a therapy session on campus through the college’s (free, thank God) mental health program. Her therapist, Lindsay, called it “a breakthrough session.” Rey called it “a real fucking shitty time.” It’d been about her parents, because what else would it have been about, honestly? She’d spent practically the whole session crying on her therapist’s couch, and she came home red-eyed and red-nosed, her mascara still visible in faint streaks down her cheeks.

Ben had taken one look at her and asked what was wrong. She didn't answer, just collapsed onto their couch. He’d wrapped her in a blanket and once she started talking, he’d kept his mouth shut.

“Did Finn or Rose or anyone mention anything about, um, where I’m from?” she’d asked. Her voice was thick; her nose was still a little stuffed and her eyes a little watery.

He’d shaken his head, watching her carefully—but it didn't feel like he wanted to remove himself from the situation should it get dicey, or even like he was trying to be delicate and make sure she didn't fall apart. It was more like if she did fall apart, he was going to be there, and he was going to make sure he did what he could to make her feel better. And just knowing that already made her feel better, made her feel safer. Safe enough that she could even tell him.

“I didn't know my dad,” she told him. “His name, his picture, I couldn't tell you anything about him. I don't think I have his last name, either; he’s not listed on my birth certificate. But I couldn't say for sure.” She took a deep breath. “My mum... I don't know everything she struggled with. I was so young, I couldn't possibly understand it. But looking back on it, I think she was probably an alcoholic, and she was probably involved in other drugs as well.” She swallowed. “I came home from kindergarten and she was passed out on the bathroom floor. I went to my neighbor's house to ask for help, and they called 911. And CPS.”

He handed her a mug of tea that he must have made before she started talking, but she couldn't possibly remember. She took a sip. It tasted like lavender. How on earth had he known she loves lavender?

“I, um. Well, my therapist likes to use the word _repressed_. She’s right, but I still don't like to say that. I don't exactly remember what happened, after that. Or I didn't.” She bit her lip and tried to steady her breathing. “I spent so many years in the system telling myself my mum would get better and come back for me, but deep down, I think I knew that was never going to happen. Because I remembered, today, what really happened. She told them she didn't want me.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and her face crumpled, and the tears began their relentless slide down her face anew. Ben took the mug from her hands and set it on the coffee table. Probably a good idea. She’d probably have spilled it everywhere if he hadn't.

“After she got out of the hospital, there was a hearing,” Rey continued, “and she asked them to take me away from her.”

Ben took her hand then and she looked up. The human contact had surprised her and grounded her all at once. “Rey,” he’d told her, so fiercely, the most intense she’d ever seen him, “I can't imagine anyone not wanting you. They’d have to be... so fucking out of it.”

A short, choked, watery laugh escaped her throat. “Well, by all accounts, my mum certainly was.”

He smiled at her, and his hold on her hand tightened. “Rey, you have so many people who care about you. Maybe _she_ didn't, not the way you deserved, but your friends do. I do, too, Rey, I care about you. You are not alone anymore. You never have to be alone again.”

She looked at him then, really looked at him, and it was something deeper than instinct that made her say what she said next. “Neither are you, Ben.”

Then she’d hugged him, and it had almost made her laugh, the surprise she could feel in every bone of his body. But he’d relaxed, and hugged her back, and he was a very good hugger. They’d watched Queer Eye on the couch together until they’d fallen asleep, and since that moment, Rey is pretty sure Ben has become her best friend.

Even when he’s being annoyingly pedantic about things that don't matter, like how “irregardless” isn't a word, or how saying “unthaw” makes no logical sense, she just wants to listen to him talk. She also likes watching him, she won't lie.

Ben is an attractive man. He’s just... big. Big shoulders, big hands, big arms, big thighs. Big. It’s a little bit hot.

Alright, more than a little bit. And he’s got those big dark eyes, and that full mouth, and that soft wavy hair... Who could blame her for being into it? What person who’s attracted to men would not be into it? Even watching him drive is a little bit of a turn-on, the way his biceps bulge a little bit as he holds the steering wheel, the way his hands dwarf the steering wheel and the gear shift. But she would never say anything. Even in the unlikely event that Ben feels the same, Rey would hate to destroy their friendship. And she wouldn't want to lose her living space, either. Where else in L.A. is possibly she going to find an apartment she can afford with a washer and dryer and only one roommate?

So maybe repressing her feelings isn’t always a bad thing. Take that, Lindsay.

They get to Nashville around 7pm. Rey is wide-eyed as she takes in the town. It’s amazing how different every city is, how they’ve all sort of got their different characters. It’s amazing how Rey never thought she’d make it out of Arizona, and here she is. She can't help it; she reaches over and squeezes Ben’s hand. “Thank you,” she says, with all the sincerity she can muster, “for bringing me.”

He swallows. “I couldn't do this without you, Rey.”

The air feels pressurized, almost—heavy, tense, but it isn't a bad kind of tension. Sort of like how it feels to be at a concert, after the opening act has left the stage and right before the main act enters. Like she’s waiting for something.

She just isn't sure what.

“In 3.1 miles, make a left turn onto Parton Avenue,” their GPS intones.

Just like that, the tension dissipates. Rey drops his hand.

A few minutes later, they pull up to their hotel.

“Do you want to just drop our bags off and then go walk around downtown, find a place to eat?” Ben suggests.

She grins. “You know me so well.”

“There’s been a mistake,” Ben tells the person at the front desk with a fierceness that rather makes Rey pity them. “There’s only one bed in our room. We booked a room with two beds.”

The woman types something into the computer sitting in front of her, then says, very calmly. “I’m sorry, sir, but our rooms are all booked. It’s the Tomato Art Festival this weekend, so we have lots of people in town. There’s nothing I can do.”

“You can't switch us to another room?” Ben asks, a little desperately. “Or book us another room, at all?”

Firmly, she repeats, “I’m very sorry, sir, there’s nothing I can do.”

Rey touches his elbow. “Ben, it’s okay.”

He turns to her. “Rey, I’m so sorry, if you want to just go somewhere else—”

“No, I’m sorry,” she says, “I must have made a mistake when I booked—”

“I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, I can sleep on the floor—”

“Ben,” she says firmly, “don’t be ridiculous. We’ve shared a bed before, that night in Vegas. We’re adults. It will be fine. It’s one night. We don't need to go anywhere else.” Rey turns to the poor lady at the front desk who’s been listening to the whole conversation and thanks her, then tells Ben, “Come on. Let’s go finish putting our stuff in the room, and then we can go for dinner.”

Downtown Nashville is incredible. They walk through the Music City Walk of Fame Park, past the Country Music Hall of Fame, and over the John Sutherland Bridge, where Rey asks someone to take their picture. Ben puts his arm around her, and it feels like home.

They eat at one of the many barbeque places that line the downtown streets, and Rey thinks that these people at least have the right idea about something, because they can really cook. She’s got barbeque sauce all over her face and fingers by the end of the meal, and honestly, that is exactly the way it should be, if you ask her.

She smiles at Ben, goofy and very aware of what a mess she is, then she makes a face and sticks her tongue out at him. He laughs. The way he’s looking at her right now, it makes her feel like she did in the car, earlier—almost like she’s buzzing, and not from the Mike’s Hard Lemonade she had with her dinner. Ben reaches out and wipes at her face with a napkin, and it is _fully_ ridiculous, but Rey can't breathe. It’s weird, but he’s just so gentle, and not-at-all grossed out, and he’s still smiling that soft, stupid smile at her.

She wants to kiss him.

So instead, she says, “I feel like Merida.”

“Merida?” he asks.

She rolls her eyes. “Don't tease me, Benjamin Chewbacca Solo. I know you know who Merida is. I’ve made you watch _Brave_ so many times.”

“Oh, the princess with the curly red hair?” he asks, far too innocently to be sincere. “Why do you feel like her?”

“When she’s like, ‘Well, that’s attractive’?” Rey gestures to her face. “Yeah.”

“I think you look cute.” 

She swallows. “I have far too much barbeque sauce on my face to be cute.”

“Ah, but you have significantly less barbeque sauce on your face now.” He grins at her, then his smile softens, and he says, “You’re always beautiful, Rey.”

Rey’s eyes drop to his lips, and all she can think about is the singular bed back in their hotel room.

“Are you sure you don't want me to sleep on the floor?” Ben had asked her before he got in the shower. She’d scoffed and told him not to be silly, it was fine if they shared a bed, but now... She’s not quite as confident.

They’d been buzzed as hell back in Vegas. Rey can't really remember anything about sleeping with Ben—oh God, _literally_ sleeping with Ben. She can't even think that phrase without heat rising to her cheeks.

Anyway, she can't remember anything about it, other than a vague sense of warmth and a comforting kind of weight. She doesn't remember falling asleep, and Ben was up and out of bed before she was.

Tonight, though.

Tonight, she can't help but remember. Every little thing that happens feels burned into her memory: the brush of his hand across her arm, the way the bed sinks down under his weight, how she can feel the heat from his body, even though they are very consciously not touching.

Rey can hardly breathe.

“Rey,” Ben murmurs.

For a second, she considers pretending to already be asleep.

“I know you aren't asleep, Rey.”

So much for that.

“Yeah?” she says.

“You aren't comfortable,” he states, sitting up. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No!” She sits up and grabs his wrist. “It’s fine, I swear, I’m just not used to having another person in my bed.” The tips of his ears go red in the dim light of their room. She thinks about what she said and blushes a little, herself. “I just mean...” “I know what you mean,” he says, clearing his throat. “Here, uh. Just... We can try to go to sleep for a few more minutes, but if it’s still not working, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Okay,” she says. They lay back down, but she doesn't feel quite as still this time. She reaches across the bed and finds him. He sucks in a breath, but he doesn't move. “I think focusing on not touching was making me tense,” she tells him. “So maybe if we just start out touching...?” 

“Of course,” he says, sounding slightly strangled. He clears his throat and rolls on his side, then swings his arm across Rey’s waist and pulls her against him until they’re basically spooning, albeit with some space left between them. “Is this better?”

“Yeah,” she whispers.

“Goodnight, Rey.”

“Goodnight.”


	3. iii. new york

His dad wouldn't have wanted a funeral. He was always clear about how horrible he found them, how sad.

“If I ever die,” he’d say gruffly, “I don't want any of that shit. You wanna have a memorial, say a few words by my grave, that’s fine, but don't you go making a big deal outta it. And afterward, I want you to get rip-roaring drunk and have a good time. Maybe get a girlfriend or steal a car or something. That’d be a damn good way to honor me.”

Leia hadn't held a funeral, thank God. Ben isn't sure he could’ve handled it. Either he wouldn't have gone, and he’d have had to think about what an awful, ungrateful son he was; or he would have gone, and he’d have had to deal with the false tears and pity from all his mother’s acquaintances who privately had never thought his father was good enough for her—or perhaps more importantly, good enough for _them_. So Leia decided to wait until Ben was there and do a graveside memorial service, followed by dinner.

Of course, she didn't tell Ben that until he and Rey were halfway through Virginia. Which actually was probably smart of her; Ben wasn't sure if he’d have come, had she told him. Part of him suspects there wasn't ever a problem with the Falcon and his dad’s will, and his mom was just scheming to get him out there. He wouldn't put it past the woman. She always did know what she wanted, and she got it.

So he had to tell Rey that they now have to attend his father’s memorial service.

“I mean, you don't have to come, of course,” he’d said.

“Of course I’ll come, Ben,” she’d told him, shaking her head at the very idea she might do otherwise. “But I didn't exactly bring anything for a funeral—”

“Not a funeral,” he’d cut her off. “Besides, Dad would’ve hated anyone getting dressed up in stuffy clothes for him. Just wear whatever, it’s not a big deal.”

She’d studied him with those eyes she has, the clear, sharp hazel piercing him, always looking, he thinks, into his very soul. “Okay,” she said. “If you’re sure.”

Ben doesn't really feel sure about anything anymore. It’s hard to, when it feels like the bottom of the world has fallen out from under you, and suddenly, you’re free-falling, with no end in sight.

But he knows Rey. He has Rey. Her friendship, at least—not that he’s complaining. He will happily take whatever she will give him. She’s there for him. She’s always there for him.

He doesn't deserve her.

It’s late when they get to his mother’s place in New York. She wouldn't hear of them staying at a hotel, so she’d taken it upon herself to cancel their reservation. She’s still living in the little brownstones in Brooklyn where he grew up. Leia could never move outside the city. Neither could Han, really. He had insisted strenuously that his mother make sure he and Rey had separate bedrooms.

“We are not together, Mom, and I do not want you to make her uncomfortable,” he’d hissed.

“Oh, relax,” she said. He could hear her eyes rolling over the phone. “When have I ever made any of your girlfriends uncomfortable?”

“Never,” he said, “because I wasn't dumb enough to introduce you to them, and let your insatiable desire for grandchildren ruin our relationships.”

“Hey,” she said, “if you or your partner don't want children, that is perfectly fine. But for the record—you would have adorable babies.”

“ _Mom_ ,” he said warningly.

“Alright, alright,” she said, “I’ll make sure there are two rooms open for the both of you.”

She did, true to her word—but Ben was not staying in his childhood bedroom, she informed him. “The bed in there is smaller than the one in the guest room,” she said. “I just thought that you’d be more comfortable there. You’re a little big for your old bed now.”

That might have been true, but he knows his mother, even if they don't talk as much as they maybe should. That woman was matchmaking. He could feel it in his bones.

Rey laughs when she walks into his old room. “Love the _Galaxy Battles_ posters, you _nerd_.”

“ _Me_ , a nerd?” Ben raises his eyebrows. “I’ve seen your Kira costume. It’s... detailed.”

“So we’re both nerds.” She runs her hands over the black comforter on his bed and shrugs. “Maybe we were made for each other.”

His tongue feels thick in his mouth, clumsy. If teenage Ben could have seen this... A _girl_ — _this_ girl in his bedroom... Well, he probably would’ve passed out. Adult Ben feels like he’s going to pass out, honestly. “Maybe,” he chokes out.

Oh, God, Rey is going to be sleeping in his bed. Without him. But Rey, in his bed.

Jesus.

Maybe sharing a room would have been better, after all. Although knowing his mother, she would have put them in this room together, and Ben would have actually died. He thinks he might die right now, anyway, so he can't imagine how much worse that would be.

“Um,” Rey says. “I should. We should probably.” She clears her throat. “Go to bed.”

“Yeah,” Ben whispers. “We should. The service is at ten tomorrow, so we need to... get to sleep.” His eyes flick down towards her lips, full and pink and beautiful.

“Well,” she says, a little too brightly, “guess I’ll just. Go to sleep, then. In your childhood bed.”

“This is weird.”

“A little bit,” she laughs. “But I have slept in worse places, so... it’ll be.” She swallows. “Fine.” Her eyes scan his body, slowly, and he can feel her gaze like a weight on him. “Um, goodnight!” She says hurriedly, ushering him out the door.

Ben can feel his heart in his throat when the door closes, a few inches in front of his nose.

It’s hot, this day they have set aside for honoring his father. Han would like that. He liked to complain about the heat, but he didn't mind it, really. Liked it far better than the cold, anyway. He always hated winter. It’s muggy, too, the air heavy with water, resting like a tangible thing against his skin. Han would have truly hated that. If he’d wanted to go see some fucking water, he would have gone to it, he would’ve groused. It wasn't good for flying. That was what he really hated; there was nothing Han loved more than being in the cockpit of a plane.

Not even his own son.

Ben shouldn't be thinking about that, not while he’s standing over his father’s headstone—but how can he think about anything else? Han had left him in that damn plane so many times over the years. Well, this time, he’s really left, and he isn't coming back.

It just doesn't feel real.

He keeps waiting for it to sink in, but it just hasn't. Maybe it never will. Is that what happens, when you lose someone? Do you always just... forget, until you remember, and then it just hurts all over again?

There aren't very many people at the little graveside service, just him, his mom, Rey, and his three uncles: Lando, Chewie, and Luke. He and Luke avoid each other as much as possible, given the small circle in which they are operating, but it’s nice to see Uncle Lando and Uncle Chewie again. Even if Lando does shoot him the biggest shit-eating grin imaginable when he introduces Rey.

Rey looks beautiful, of course. She wore her cutoff jean shorts and one of her nicer shirts, and she fretted about it being too casual until they showed up and she saw Chewie in a shirt bearing the logo of a band from the ‘70s that looked like it might have originated in that decade, too. Chewie had given him a look, too, when he saw her. But it was less of a “you’re-hitting-that-right?” look, and more of a look only Chewie could give: a “you’re-being-stupid-about-something-obvious-here” look.

She held his hand during the ceremony, while his mom and his uncles all said a few words. And sure, that might seem romantic, but Rey’s a very good friend, so of course she wanted to comfort him. Right?

It works, anyway. Rey’s small, warm hand in his distracts him all throughout the graveside memorial. He doesn't think about the last time he was in New York, or the last time he talked to his father, or any of that messy, painful shit.

Then she lets go, and it threatens to drown him under it.

Everyone is supposed to go to The Castle, his dad’s favorite bar, for drinks and food afterwards. But Ben, Ben can't move from his dad’s grave.

Rey takes his hand again, and he looks at her. “I fought with him,” he croaks out. “The last time I ever saw him in person was three years ago, and I fought with him.” His face is wet. At first, he thinks it’s raining, or that maybe the water in the air had coalesced on his cheeks. Then he touches his face, and he realizes he’s crying.

Rey’s slender arms wrap around his waist and she presses her small body against his chest. “It’s okay,” she whispers, “I’ve got you, Ben, it’s okay.”

“I was working for Snoke’s law firm,” he said blankly, “and Mom and Dad didn't like it. Right before I moved to L.A., I got into a huge fight with Dad about it. I quit working for Snoke a year ago because every damn thing Dad had said about him was true. But I couldn't forgive him for that.” He works his jaw. “I talked to him on the phone, and we managed a little bit of small talk, and I thought to myself that it was time for me to get over it and move on and try to have a relationship with the man. And a month later, he had a heart attack... and that was it.” He’s crying in earnest now, voice wobbly and shoulders shaking. “I don't even remember the last time I told him I loved him.”

Rey shifts, her arms around his neck, so that she can play with the ends of his hair. “He knew you loved him, Ben.”

He laughs bitterly. “How can you be so sure?”

“Well,” She says, “when you love someone, that person tends to know. You aren't good at hiding your feelings.”

He doesn't think they’re talking about his dad anymore.

He thinks about waking up with her in his arms two nights ago, in Nashville. All the space between them that he had so carefully kept throughout the night had completely disappeared. Her leg had been thrown over his hip, her arms tangled around his neck, her head buried snugly in his chest. He could feel all her softness pressed up against him, warm and comforting. Her hips shifted against his and he groaned, quiet and low, into her hair.

“I wasn't asleep, Ben,” Rey says.

“What?”

“That morning, when we slept together.” She blushes. “No, I mean—”

“I know what you mean,” he says with wide eyes. “You weren't asleep?”

“Can you tell me, Ben?” She looks... scared. But so brave, his Rey, forging ahead despite her fear. “No, this isn't the right time.” She looks away from him, takes a step back. “I... I shouldn't be making you have this conversation, not here, not _now_.”

He laughs. There was something a bit ironic about it. “Yeah, emotional conversations weren't really my dad’s thing.”

“Oh, Ben.” She throws herself onto him and wraps him into a hug. “I know he knew you loved him. I’m _sure_ he did.”

“You think?” he says heavily.

“I really do,” she says. Her voice is muffled by his shirt. He brings a hand up and cradles her head in his palm.

They stand there together, quiet, for a few moments before Ben discreetly wipes the tears from his cheeks and says, “Come on, we should go catch up with everyone else.”

He feels her nod against his chest. She pulls away from him a little bit, her arms still wrapped around his neck. “You are a good person, Ben Solo,” she says fiercely. “You are a good person, and I care about you.”

He’s never wanted to kiss her more. Instead, he just says, “I care about you too.”

She pulls away from him and her hand slips into his. Hand-in-hand, they walk away from Han Solo’s final resting place, and for the first time since his mother had first called to inform him of his father’s death, he feels peace.


	4. iv. wyoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i spend extra time on this chapter because i love wyoming, and my family goes to yellowstone like once a year?
> 
> ....maybe

Rey has listened to “Ever Since New York” an embarrassing number of times since... well, since New York.

It was all, quite simply, a lot.

She wasn't sure what had changed her mind, what had made her feel like she could take the risk, but something had shifted that night in Nashville, when she had woken to feel Ben hard and hot between her legs, his hands resting low on her back, and his breath warm against her skin. She had known then, with a sort of knowing deeper than knowing, that there was something there that was worth pursuing, whatever the cost.

And with that same kind of knowing, she knows that Ben would never break her heart. She knows. She just does.

Which is why she’d dared to say anything at all back in New York.

But she didn't think Ben was quite ready for it yet, so she left it. And she’s left it ever since the, just hoping he’ll bring it back up.

She’s got a bit of a plan for making that happen, anyway.

They’re just reaching the Wyoming border. Rey has decided she prefers the mountains to the hills or the flatlands of the east. She likes the variation in the landscape, and she’s excited to drive through the Rockies. They were beautiful in the hotter desert as they drove through them in Colorado, and she’s sure they’ll be beautiful here, too.

They take a route that most people don't, because Rey did her research, and everyone said it was much more scenic. And it is. She gasps when she sees the valley laid out underneath them. They can see for miles. There are ravines and rivers, mountains and towns, the world below them colored red, blue, brown, and green. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been up this high,” she gasped.

“You’ve never been in an airplane?” Ben asks.

Rey shakes her head. “Is this what it’s like? You can just see... _everything_?”

His eyes are soft again. “Yeah, that’s what it’s like. Maybe we’ll fly somewhere next,” he muses, almost to himself.

A part of Rey wants to protest. This trip was different. It didn't really cost him that much extra to bring another person on a roadtrip, since he would’ve had to pay for gas and hotels and stuff anyway. Flying, though, that was a very measurable, added cost. Her deeply-rooted independence expresses a sense of discomfort at that. However—

She really likes the implication, maybe only preset in her own head, that Ben was thinking about possible vacations in terms of them, and, more specifically, in terms of _her_ , and what she might want to do.

Yeah. She really, _really_ likes that.

They stop for lunch at a tiny restaurant in a tiny town that reminds Rey a little of the place she grew up in Arizona: dry and a little shrunken, with only one store—a gas station— that she can see. This restaurant is technically a little bit out of the way, but Yelp said it was the best one in the area, so Rey figured they could drive another ten minutes, and it would be worth it.

Their waitress is a pretty girl with dark hair and lots of tattoos. She has an accent that sounds almost Southern, but from the little she’s (mostly over)heard, Rey thinks a lot of people out here talk that way. She brings them a root beer for Rey and a water with a lemon for Ben, then takes their orders and heads to the back.

“So,” Rey says, in between slurps of root beer.

Ben raises his eyebrows. “So,” he repeats.

“You’ve been quiet,” she says. She sets her drink down and leans across the table. Her hand brushes his. “Are you okay?”

She watches his throat bob with no small amount of fascination. “Yeah,” he says, “I’m fine.”

She hums and takes another sip of her drink. “It’s okay if you aren't, you know.”

“I know.” He seems very determined not to look at her. Rey wraps her lips still more carefully around her straw. “But I’m really alright.”

“Then what’s on your mind?”

His mouth works for a few seconds as he seems to debate whether he should tell her or not. She sucks on her straw rather loudly and silently begs him to just give in.

Finally, finally, he looks up at her and says, “Nothing important.”

Rey’s shoulders slump a little bit, just for a second, but she straightens herself up again. He doesn't want to do this yet? That’s fine.

She’s good at getting what she wants, no matter how long it takes.

It’s early evening by the time they reach Old Faithful Inn, about seven o’clock. Traffic through the park was slow-moving, to say the least. They’d left the little town where they’d had lunch at about two, and it should have only been a four-hour drive from there, but Rey has learned people really like to stop and look at buffalo, no matter how inconvenient it is to everyone else on the road.

Yellowstone is really gorgeous, though, so she doesn't really begrudge the length of the trip. She’d seen pictures of buffalo, sure, but seeing them in person is pretty awesome. And the mountains and the lake were really gorgeous. But she’ll admit, she’s pretty relieved when they pull up to the Inn. She really wants to get out of the car, for one thing. For another, she really wants to see the geyser. They’re really fascinating, scientifically—and Rey really likes explosions.

What can she say? She’s a very simple girl.

They go inside the hotel to check what time the geyser is supposed to go off. There’s still a good fifteen minutes, but Ben doesn't think that’s enough time to go back out to the car and grab their bags, so they just get some ice cream and walk out toward the geyser.

“Oh,” Ben says, grabbing her hand. She stops dead in her tracks. “Come here,” he says, tugging gently on her wrist. “You’ve got some...” He brings one of his (massive, massive) hands to her cheek and carefully wipes some ice cream from the corner of her mouth.

“Did you get it?” Rey whispers. She’s so close to him, she can feel his breath on her skin, feel the heat coming off his body.

He doesn't move his hand. “Almost.”

She leans closer to him, and she could swear he leans in, too—but some asshole tourist knocks into Rey, and she nearly smears her huckleberry ice cream all over Ben’s shirt. And Rey is very protective of her food, but... if she had, then maybe Ben would have had to take his shirt off... Damn, it’s almost enough to make her regret _not_ losing her ice cream. As it is, she manages to stop herself by placing her other, not-ice-cream-holding hand on Ben’s (exceptionally) firm chest.

“Watch where you’re going!” he yells after the tourist. “Asshole,” he mutters.

Rey laughs. “My hero,” she says, a little wryly.

He grins down at her cheekily. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

His arm is around her waist. She hadn't noticed, but she’s a little surprised by how natural it feels there.

The moment is interrupted by the shouts and cheers of the crowd around them. “It’s starting,” someone calls, and they turn to see easily a hundred feet of steam and water shoot into the air. Rey can actually feel droplets of water landing on her skin.

“Wow,” she whispers. She lets her body relax into Ben’s, leans her head on his shoulder.

He tenses briefly, but then he relaxes, too. “It’s pretty cool,” he agrees. He doesn't move his arm from her waist.

Ben walks in the door of their room and groans. “Not _again_.”

“What is it?” Rey asks from behind him. She nudges him through the door, and stops. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Ben says tersely. “One bed. Again. How the _fuck_ does this keep happening to us?”

Rey shrugs. “Bad luck?” she says nonchalantly. Or she hopes it’s nonchalant, anyway.

Because she’s not sure how the last one happened, but she knows exactly why they only have one bed this time. You see, when they had spent the night in South Dakota, Rey had made a very important phone call to the Old Faithful Inn, requesting they switch their reservation to a room with a single bed.

For no reason. Obviously.

“Guess we’re just going to have to share!” she says. Maybe a little too cheerily.

“Yeah, I guess,” Ben says, looking her up and down. “I, uh. I need to shower... do you..?” For a crazy half-second, she thinks he’s going to ask her to join him. Then he says, “do you need to get into the bathroom before that?”

And all of a sudden, Rey has had enough of this, this back-and-forth. She’s done.

She surges forward onto her tiptoes and presses her mouth to his.

A muffled sound escapes his mouth. Rey wonders if his eyes are still open, but she is far too afraid to open her own and look. She just keeps kissing him, desperately hoping he’ll kiss her back. Just when she starts to think it won't happen, she feels his mouth begin to move under hers, and his hands grab her hips and pull her tight against his body.

“Rey,” he gasps, and lightning shoots down her spine, finding its termination between her legs.

She kisses him harder in response, opening her mouth to his tongue. He’s a good kisser. It would be a crime if he weren't, with that mouth, but he is. He knows how to move his mouth and how to keep the kiss from getting too sloppy. Rey isn't sure if the effect he’s having on her is due to his skill, though, or if it has more to do with him just being _Ben_. Her hands find the hem of his shirt and slip underneath, sliding across the smooth planes of his bare stomach.

“Wait.” He pulls his mouth from hers. “Wait, Rey. What are we doing?”

She gives him a look. “I thought that was fairly self-explanatory,” she says with a teasing laugh. “Aren't you supposed to be a smart guy?”

“Allegedly,” he says. “But really, Rey, what are we doing?”

“Fine,” she sighs. She doesn't love talking about emotions, or expressing her feelings for other people, but Ben evidently needs it spelled out for him, so spell it out she shall. “I’ve been in love with you for months, and I’ve started to suspect that you might possibly feel the same? So. That’s what we’re doing.”

He doesn't say anything at first, which Rey had considered as a possible reaction, so that doesn't really surprise her. When that silence continues for a good thirty seconds, however, she begins to worry a bit.

“Ben? Are you okay?”

Finally, finally, he chokes out, “You... love me.”

“That’s what I said, yeah.”

“Oh,” he says, and he (fortunately briefly) falls silent again. “Well, that’s really good,” he adds after a while. “Because I think I’ve been in love with you since you moved in. Maybe even before that, honestly.”

She smiles at him, maybe the widest she’s ever smiled in her entire life. “Then, Benjamin Solo, you adorable fucking idiot, why do you still have your shirt on?”

Rey doesn't think she’s ever seen anyone move so quickly. Ben yanks his shirt over his head so fast she’s almost surprised it doesn't rip. He backs her up until she can feel the bed against her legs and says, with a little bit of a growl in his voice that Rey finds _very_ sexy, thank you, “Is that better?”

“Much,” she manages to say before his mouth is on hers again, his hands under her shirt, stroking small circles on her back. He wastes no time in pulling her shirt over her head, his hands seemingly intent on finding every inch of bare skin that they can. He finds the hook of her bra and unclasps it with an ease that, quite frankly, impresses her.

“It’s only fair we’re both topless, right?” he mutters against her skin. She recognizes the question for the request for consent that it is, and nods, smiling. Even when he’s trying and almost succeeding at being smooth, Ben Solo is still hopelessly sweet.

She loves that about him.

Ben’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when Rey’s breasts are bared to him, like one of those silly cartoon characters when they see a pretty girl. It really does wonders for her self-esteem, seeing him like this, so clearly enamoured by her half-naked body. She doesn't think there is a single part of her body that he’d want to change if she asked, and she’s surprised at how powerful that feeling is.

“You can touch me,” she says with a laugh.

He does, simultaneously tender and desperate, like she’s something precious but he can never get enough of her, and he’s afraid he never will. She sighs into his mouth, which has settled on hers again, as he cups her tits and his thumbs flick over her nipples.

Rey lowers herself onto the bed and pulls Ben with her so that his hips are cradled between her thighs, lips still pressed together, his hands still playing with her tits. He takes the opportunity to brace himself on his elbows and kiss her jaw, then her neck, moving down her chest until he takes the small bud of one nipple in his mouth. Rey moans, and her back arches off the bed toward him. He swirls his tongue around it, lightly scrapes his teeth over it, and Rey’s not sure anyone’s ever made her feel so good by doing so very little.

“Fuck,” she pants, “that feels so good, Ben.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs. He switches to her other breast, ensuring it receives the same treatment.

“You’re so good,” she groans, “so good, Ben.”

He releases her nipple with a loud pop and kisses her again, hungrily. “Say that again.”

“You are,” she says immediately, knowing exactly what he meant. “You are good, Ben, and you make me feel so good. My good, good man.”

She feels his sigh hot against the skin of her neck as she strokes his hair.

He kisses her one, two, three more times, sweet and fast. “I love you so much, Rey.”

“I love you too,” she responds.

Something shifts, then. The tone of their interaction changes entirely, from something desperate and hungry to something slow and sweet and deeper. It’s still loving, it was loving before, but now it’s unhurried, like actually saying “I love you” to each other reminded them that they have time, they have all the time in the world.

She rolls them over, still kissing. Her knees land on either side of his (quite muscular) thighs, and her hands move to his belt. He grabs her wrists, and her fevered brain zeros in on how extraordinarily easily his hands encircle her wrists. It isn't even difficult for him.

“Fuck,” he gasps, “Rey, wait, I wanna go down on you. Come on, baby, let me eat that pretty little pussy. Please?” 

The place in question throbs in response to his absolutely filthy words, but Rey bites her lip. “I don't know...”

His thumbs rub little circles against her wrists. “It’s okay, if you don't want to. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do.” She knew that, knew Ben would never push her, but she does really appreciate the affirmation. “But Rey,” he says, voice deep, and Rey squirms a little when his eyes meet hers, so dark and intense, “I _really_ want to.”

“It’s just that...” She looks up at the ceiling. Maybe this will be easier to say if she’s not making eye contact with him. “I’ve never really _liked_ that when men have done it before. I just felt... self-conscious. Sort of awkward.”

He hums. She chances a glance back down at him, and she’s glad she did. He’s annoyed, she can tell by the curve of his mouth, that no man has done that for her. But he’s trying to hide it, the rest of his face perfectly impassive, because he doesn't want her to think he’s annoyed at her. “Well, could we maybe... try it out?” he suggests. “And you let me know how you feel, and I’ll stop if you don't like it.”

It isn't as scary as she thought it would be to nod and tell him, “Okay, we can try it.” She raises herself up, still kneeling over him. “So, how do you want to do this?”

His eyes darken even more, something Rey hadn't thought was possible. “Take your pants off and come here.” 

“Underwear too?”

“No,” he says roughly. “Leave those on.”

Rey shimmies out of her denim shorts and crawls a little awkwardly up the bed, toward Ben fucking Solo’s gorgeous face. She pauses near his shoulders, and he grabs the backs of her thighs and pulls her towards him.

“That’s it,” he says gently. She can feel his breath tickle her cunt, he’s so fucking close to her. He presses her down, closer to his mouth. She nearly jumps when he presses a kiss to her still-clothed pussy. “I’m going to take care of you, Rey, don't worry,” he soothes. “God, you smell so good. Bet that pretty pussy of yours is gonna taste so good, been thinking about it for so long, pretty girl.”

She shouldn't be surprised—the man is a lawyer. He basically talks for a living. But he is really, _really_ good at dirty talk. And she is really, _really_ into it.

Somehow, his lips find her clit, even through her panties. When he sucks it into his mouth, Rey moans, her whole body going boneless. She grabs onto the headboard and pushes her hips closer to his face. It’s like sparks, like a live wire singing through her body.

Then the sparks disappear.

Ben presses a kiss to the inside of her thigh and she huffs out a sigh. “Did you like that?” he asks innocently.

“Ben Solo, you little shit, put your mouth back on me,” she growls.

His lips quirk into a smirk. “Yes, ma’am.” He pulls on the waistband of her (admittedly very cheap) plain cotton panties and _actually_ tears them off of her.

“Ben!” she yelps. She smacks at his arm, but she’s laughing all the same. “I paid for tho—”

Her words are quite entirely silenced when his mouth finds her cunt again, and God, she is grateful for whoever or whatever taught him to eat pussy like this. He knows exactly what he’s doing. There’s not a single ounce of reservation in his body; he buries his face in her cunt like it’s everything he needs, like he’s been without water for days, and she is a spring in the desert. It’s impossible to feel self-conscious or awkward when he’s treating her like that, like she’s the only thing he’ll ever need, and soon, Rey is grinding her hips against his face, desperate to come.

“Ben,” she pants, “come on, please, I’m so close.”

He grins up at her (she can see it in his eyes, feel it against her cunt) and maneuvers her just so. Then he pushes two of his thick fingers inside her and curls, and Rey’s vision whites out. She collapses, shuddering, her muscles refusing to hold her up as the waves of her orgasm crest over her, threatening to pull her under entirely.

“Fuck,” Ben moans. His hands cradle her body as he lays her down on the bed. He kisses her fiercely, and Rey, dizzy from coming, thinks she can taste herself on his lips. “Fuck,” he repeats, griding against her. “That was so good, baby, you did so good. You taste so, so good, you’re so perfect, just like I knew you would be.”

He’s still got his jeans on, she realizes. The fabric is coarse against her sensitive, flushed skin, but it feels good, too. She sighs into the kiss and rubs herself against him. “Take your pants off,” she murmurs.

Ben laughs. “Greedy.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“Oh, not a thing. I’m going to give you exactly what you want.”

Rey shivers, her body tingling with the force of his promise. Still, she tosses her head and says archly, “I suppose you’ll have to take off the rest of your clothes, then.” 

He grins. “Suppose I will.”

Ben stands and shucks his pants off. He’s got black boxers on, which makes her laugh a little, because of course he does. Then he takes those off, too, and she can't help the little gasp that escapes her, because he’s fucking huge.

“How the hell am I supposed to fit that thing inside me?” she blurts.

He chuckles. “Uh, really carefully?”

Rey rolls her eyes. “Smartass.” She pushes herself up to her knees and crooks her finger at him. “Come here, dummy.” He crashes onto the bed and moves to pull her underneath him again, but she says, “No, hold on.” She pushes at him until he rolls over onto his back, half-sitting up with the pillows supporting him. “I want to be on top.”

He swallows hard. “Okay.”

She straddles him, taking his cock in her hand—Jesus Christ, she can't even wrap her hand all the way around him—and running it through her folds.

“Wait,” he chokes, “condom?”

She shrugs. “I trust you. I’m good without it if you are.”

He nods furiously. “Good, yeah, we’re good.”

“Good,” Rey says, and she sinks down onto him.

It’s been a while. Rey’s never been really comfortable with casual sex, as she finds it requires far more vulnerability than she likes, and she hasn't dated anyone since before she moved in with Ben, so... yeah, it’s been a while. And Ben is _big_. So she’s got to go slow, but it still feels really fucking good.

Probably helped that he actually made some effort to get her ready instead of just trying to stick it in. A few of the men she’d dated had problems with that.

It feels like an achingly long moment, though it’s probably not really more than a few minutes, before she manages to sink all the way down onto him. She exhales, all the space available in her body for breath seemingly replaced by Ben inside her. He reaches up and tangles his fingers in her hair, pulls her down and presses his forehead to hers.

“Fuck, you feel good, Rey—” His voice breaks on her name, threatening to turn into a whine.

“Ben,” she whimpers in reply, “shit, Ben, I’m so _full_ —” She rocks her hips against him, slowly sliding up and down on his length. He digs the heels of his feet into the mattress, thrusting his hips up to meet hers. “So deep, Ben, Jesus, you’re so deep inside me.”

Rey doesn't think she’s ever felt this close to another person.

It doesn't take long before she feels herself climbing again, tightening around him as she gets close. She can't even speak anymore to tell him, but his hand snakes down to rub at her clit. “That’s it,” he says, “come on, Rey, come for me. Wanna watch your face as you come, baby, please.”

She’s not sure if it’s his hands, his cock, his words, or the voice with which he says them. Maybe it’s all of it combined. Whatever it is, that’s all it takes, and she clenches down around him as she comes again. Ben fucks her through it, and she thinks she comes for like a whole minute straight.

His thrusts become more and more erratic, and finally, he says, “Rey, fuck, ‘m gonna come.”

“I want you too,” she says instantly. “Come inside me, Ben.” She barely finishes her sentence before he groans and buries his face in her neck and comes. She’s never had anyone come inside her before. It feels... strange. But with Ben, it also feels really intimate. She’s almost surprised to discover that she really likes it.

Rey grins down at Ben. His softening cock slips out of her, and she collapses next to him on the bed. He slings his arm around her waist and pulls her closer to him. She giggles. “Bet you’re really glad that I only booked one bed now, aren't you?”


	5. v. california

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait, hope everyone enjoys this little ending!!

It’s raining when Rey walks home from the first day of class. It’s a little bit of a rarity for it to rain like this in August, but it’s _raining_. She should’ve let Ben pick her up like he offered to do, but her classes ended at two, and he didn't get off work until after five, so she’d told him it’d be fine, they’d see each other when they got home. Now, she’s completely soaked, just praying the contents of her backpack aren’t in a similar state, and she can feel the water sloshing in her flip-flops, and she’s quite regretting her earlier “sense” and “responsibility.” She’s decided those are two very, very overrated things.

Despite the California heat, the rain nearly has her shivering by the time she gets home. She strips unashamedly in the living room (really, her ability to walk around the place naked may actually be the best part of dating her only other roommate) and walks to the bathroom, dropping her damp clothing in their little “laundry room” (read: the back corner of the kitchen, near the hallway) on her way. She turns the shower on, nearly as hot as it will go, and steps in. The hot water here lasts forever, and she intends to make the absolute most of it.

Rey likes to sing in the shower, usually, but today, she just turns her face upwards to the warm water and lets it flow over her body, just stands there like that for a quite indeterminate amount of time. She could almost fall asleep like this. Creature of the sun that she is, she always needs heat and warmth to truly feel alright.

She hears the door open, and her whole body shivers. It’s probably Ben—she knows the door’s locked, and he’s the only other person with a key—but he’s home really early if it’s him...

“Rey?” a deep, unmistakable voice calls out, and her shoulders relax.

“In here,” she yells back.

A few seconds later, the bathroom door swings open. She shivers again as the movement sends a draft through the air, chilling her damp skin. Through the curtain, she can see Ben’s silhouette shrugging off his (quite expensive) suit, leaving it crumpled on the floor, and hear the thwack of wet clothes hitting the floor. Then he’s stepping through the curtain, wrapping his arms around her waist.

She hums. “You’re home early.” 

He kisses her neck. “So are you. I thought you had to run errands and stuff after class.”

“Yeah, but then a fucking ocean descended from the sky, and I figured they could wait. What’s your excuse?”

“It’s our anniversary,” he says simply.

She laughs. “Uh, that was a couple weeks ago.”

“No, today’s the one-year anniversary of our first date,” he insists. His hand slides up her ribcage, cupping her breast.

“I’ll give you that one,” Rey says, a little breathlessly, “but I still think we should be counting from that night in Yellowstone.”

“That wasn't our first date,” he says, like that’s all there is to it.

“It’s when we started dating,” she replies, “even if we didn't admit it right away. And besides—” his fingers find her nipple, and her breath catches, but she pushes on determinedly— “besides, we had ice cream and went for a walk and then went back to our hotel room and had sex. What part of that is not a date?”

“The part where I didn't ask you to go out on a date with me.” He’s really not letting this one go, his voice firm and even. His hand stops playing with her breasts and she almost whines in disappointment. He cups her chin and turns her head so he can look at her with a very convincing puppy dog face. “Please just let me have this?”

“Fine,” she sighs, but she can't resist one last little jab. “I guess that’s why you didn't get me anything for our first anniversary.

“Trust me,” he says, his hand dropping from her chin to play with her other breast, “I’ll make up for it.”

Rey moans and leans back against his chest. “I thought we decided shower sex only works in fiction.”

“Maybe, but I think foreplay is working just fine.”

“Ben,” she sighs, dragging out his name, “I still have to wash my hair.”

“Okay,” he says. He grabs the shampoo bottle (he’d been so horrified when she’d first moved in and she’d been using two-in-one because it was so cheap— “It’s cheap for a reason,” he’d told her) and squirts a little into his palms. “Come here.”

Rey loves this. Ben is always so soft with her, so gentle. It feels surprisingly good, having his hands in her hair. She’d never thought this could be an erotic act, but there’s something about the intimacy and trust present between them.

And their very naked bodies pressed together. There’s definitely something about that, too—as well as something _between_ them that’s getting harder by the second.

Rey giggles at the turn her thoughts have taken as Ben rinses the conditioner from her hair, and he growls into her (rather soapy) neck. “What are you thinking about, silly girl?” he asks, affectionately exasperated. “I’m trying to be romantic.”

“Sorry!” she laughs. “It’s just, you know... the dick don't lie.” She starts moving her hips, humming that song by Shakira.

He laughs. She really does like his laugh, so deep and genuine, and presses his hips into her ass. “No, it doesn't. I am going to fuck you, sweetheart—but I’m going to do it in our bed.”

They’d been living together since before they started dating, of course, but they’d still technically kept separate bedrooms until a couple months ago when Rey’d officially moved into the master bedroom with Ben. Ever since, he’s had a bit of a thing for fucking her in _their bed_. Because he’s a giant softie who loves the Hallmark channel.

“Well,” she says, reaching back and wrapping a hand around his dick, “are you just going to talk, or are you going to do something about it?”

She can actually see in his eyes the exact moment he decides fuck it, he’s going for it. He shuts off the shower and rips the curtain open so fast she almost can't process it. He grabs a towel off the hook and wraps it around her. “I think this is sort of counterproductive, actually,” Rey comments, looking down at her no-longer-naked body.

“If we’re going to get the bed wet and ruin the sheets, I don't want them to be soaked with water.”

Rey bites her lip and grins up at him, stomach fluttering. “Okay, okay,” she says, hurriedly wiping down her body. “There, all dry.”

He hums. “I don't know, sweetheart, I don't think you’re quite dry. And _I’m_ definitely not...”

She shoves a towel into his chest. “Well, hurry the fuck up, then.”

“Maybe I will, maybe I won't.”

She rolls her eyes. “If you’re going to be a little shit, Benjamin Solo, I can just take care of myself—”

“No.” He grabs her wrist, voice rough. “I’m afraid that’s not an option. I want to be the only one making you come tonight. You’re not doing it yourself.”

“I guess I can be okay with that,” she says, trying to hold onto her annoyance. It’s hard to, though, when he’s promised her something she loves more than anything else—letting someone else take care of her.

Ben dries himself quickly, then sweeps Rey into his arms and strides through the bathroom door. His suit still lays crumpled on the floor.

Rey lands on the bed with a soft “oof” and a little bit of a bounce, which makes her laugh. She barely has time to take a breath before Ben is climbing on top of her, pressing kisses to her skin. His fingers find her cunt very quickly, swiping through the wetness that’s gathered there.

“Fuck,” he groans, “Rey, you’re soaked.”

She snorts. “Yeah, I’ve been waiting for you to fuck me for like the last fifteen minutes now.”

“God, you’re such a brat.” He kisses her.

She nips at his lower lip, and he growls. “You like it.”

“I really fucking do.” Two of his fingers sink inside her, and she’s pretty used to him by now, but his fingers still stretch her so wide, she can't help the hiss that escapes her mouth. “Good?” he asks.

“So good,” she moans.

He sucks her tit into his mouth almost all the way, which he knows full well is kind of her weakness. And in a happy coincidence, he quite enjoys doing it, too. She sighs his name, her fingers tangling in his hair. He pulls his mouth from her with a loud pop and kisses her stomach.

Rey tugs on his hair. “Ben, come on,” she pants, almost desperate, “you can do that later. I’m ready, I want you inside me now.”

He sighs into her stomach. “Fine, but I’m going to spend hours eating you out later tonight.” He nips at her shoulder and growls, “Gonna make you come until you can’t stand it.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Yes.”

Rey lifts her legs off the bed and Ben slides her ankles behind his shoulders, spreading her wide open. She whimpers a little when he pushes inside her. He’s so big, it’s always a bit of a stretch to take him, but sometimes Rey likes that. And right now, she really, really likes it. Her nails dig into his shoulders—just a little bit, but she knows he likes the burn, too, sometimes. There’s something about it that’s messy and real and so devastatingly alive.

But once he’s fully inside her, it’s like something changes. The messy, fiery passion fades into something just as intense, but quieter, almost softer, somehow. His hand slips behind her and cradles her head in his massive palm as he kisses her, deep, like he’s forgotten he should need to breathe. He rolls his hips slowly, steadily moving inside her. Fuck, he reaches so deep. She knows that, but every time, it still manages to surprise her, somehow.

Between how worked up Rey already was, and everything about Ben, it doesn't take her very long before she feels herself getting close. Ben can feel it too, she’s sure, feel her tightening around him. After the last year together, he might know her body better than she does.

He shifts around, sitting up more so he can reach down and rub her clit just the way she likes it, exactly how she’d taught him, and he whispers to her. God, she’s got such a thing for his voice, and the bastard knows it, too. He tells her how beautiful she looks, how much he loves her, begs her to let him make her come. That might be what does it. Regardless, Rey falls over the edge decidedly, her head tipped back, moaning Ben’s name as she comes. His hips stutter as he comes, too, seconds later, never able to last much longer than her.

He lays on top of her for a few blissful seconds, like the world’s best weighted blanket.

“Now I’m ready to sit on your face for two hours,” Rey grins.

Ben really looks like he’s considering it, until he catches a glimpse of the clock near their bed and swears. “I made reservations tonight,” he says, “at that Italian place kind of on the beach? So how about we wait on that until after dinner?”

Rey’s smile widens. “Food _and_ orgasms. Wow, you really know the way to a girl’s heart, Benjamin.”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. We should get ready.” He scoops her off the bed and she shrieks, grabbing his neck and laughing as he carries her back to the bathroom, no room left in her head for Ben and his weird, cryptic statements.

Ben made the mistake of telling Rey she could order whatever she wanted—an edict she took very, very seriously. Their table was piled high with every appetizer that looked remotely appealing, salad plates, bread, and roughly three different entrees, split between her and Ben (but mostly for her).

Wow, their waitress is going to love them.

“Any dessert for you tonight?” the waitress asks, sounding quite like she can't possibly believe they (read: Rey) could eat any more food.

Ben says, “We can eat dessert here or get ice cream and walk on the beach.” Rey bites her lip, and Ben adds, “Or we can get dessert to go and save it for later, then get ice cream and walk on the beach.”

She beams. “This is why you’re the perfect boyfriend.”

He orders tiramisu, like the slightly pretentious dork he is. She orders chocolate raspberry cheesecake, like the giant sweet-toothed nerd she is.

As they walk along the beach, Rey licking her salted caramel gelato contentedly, her other hand laced through Ben’s, she thinks this might actually be the best day of her life. She leans her head against Ben’s shoulder and looks up at the stars.

Suddenly, she feels his body heat retreat from her. She looks to where he should be standing, but he’s not there. Her eyes follow some instinctive path down to Ben’s dark hair, level with her stomach as he kneels at her feet on one knee.

“Ben,” she says, her voice shaking all of a sudden, “what are you doing?” He smiles up at her and fishes a little black box out of his pocket. “I had this whole speech I wanted to do, but I’m not always very good at saying what I feel. So I decided I should just keep it simple, state the facts. First, you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever known. Second, through some miracle, you love me. Thirdly, if I ever lost you, I would be lost forever. So, Rey Sanders: will you marry me?”

She nods frantically. “Yes!” she cries out, almost unable to speak. “Oh my God, yes, of course I’ll marry you, yes!”

He stands, and their mouths meet, and she leans into him, kissing him fiercely, giving him everything she has.

Ben slides the ring onto her finger and laughs. “Well, that’s good. I wasn't sure what I would do, on the off-chance that you said no.”

“Silly man,” Rey grins, “I found that box forever ago.”

He pales slightly. “How... how long ago?”

“Probably a few months. Why?”

He laughs again, a little more nervously. “I’ve had it since December.” 

“That long?”

“It was my grandmother’s. Mom gave it to me after we went there for Hanukkah.”

“Of course she did,” Rey says, exasperated, but fond. “That woman is a force of nature.”

“Sure,” he agrees easily, “but enough about my mother. I think I should take you home and make good on my earlier promise to my fiance.” His eyes darken, leaving no question about which promise he was referencing.

“We could make good use of that cheesecake,” Rey muses.

“Now, that’s an interesting idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
